|Heir of the North Throne
Author: Child of Sleep PM
(R&R, and I will return the favor if asked. Accepting OCs. UNDER CONSTRUCTION, HIATUS) Eating without hunger, drinking without thirst, crying without any clear emotion, laughing all the while not getting the meaning of the joke, killing in cold blood merely because 'it was an order.' THAT is what makes a Blood Weapon.Rated: Fiction T - English - Mystery/Fantasy - Chapters: 7 - Words: 11,227 - Reviews: 34 - Favs: 8 - Follows: 8 - Updated: 12-13-12 - Published: 07-14-12 - id: 3041960
|A+ A- Full 3/4 1/2 Expand Tighten|
This is a short chapter. There are probably grammar errors, but I tried my best at correcting it (in a span of five mintues). Enjoy!
Heir of the North Throne
Chapter six: Angered Exorcist
November 3, 1886
Kuran manor, 11:55am
– ∆ James Kuran –
James Kuran glanced at the flimsy body sprawled across the infirmary bed. In disappointment, he grimaced. A noble, child or not, should not be bundled up in such a messy situation. Keiran's two other stubbornates—Alice Lidner and Edward Leon—bursted through the wooden-double-doors, worry played as their expressions. Edward Leon was the first to speak up, having known Keiran for more than the others, he was much more attached to the boy.
James Kuran was Keiran's uncle. A refined noble, and the successful owner of A Toy's Family Tree; a famous toy company in which would be passed down to Keiran—if he was up to James' standards of maturity and knowledge. The company is Keiran's future, and Keiran is the company's future. Though, James does not like him. There was a vibe from Keiran that kept him labeled as untrusted. Now James knew what that was.
"Is he all right?" 's voice still had its calm tone, though his eyes said otherwise, "Nothing too bad, right?"
"A few cuts. Nothing fatal. His vital signs are normal," he began to mumble. "It was strange that his heart had stopped." James put forth the information like the doctor he certainly was.
He had given them a memo about the violent event, forgetting to add that Keiran safe and virtually unharmed. After a couple of minutes of useless talk, they left, leaving Keiran with Evan Gevanni, and, of course, James Kuran.
James had removed some bandages on Keiran's wrist before they had arrived, and he had a feeling that it would be smart to question as to why Keiran, and noble who was related to Queen Victoria, was property of Reapers of Europe. He couldn't possibly be a Demon Hunter!
Blood Weapons were treated like cattle. They were branded by marks that were burnt into their skin.
James was enraged, because, after all, he was Exorcist. Just like Evan Gevanni.
"Had you noticed it before?"
There was an absence of sound before another word was spoken.
"Yes," Gevanni admitted, "I have. Though I did not dare say anything. And so, what do you plan to do? what do you make of this, General?"
"I am disappointed in you—"
"For not telling you? He is my Master—"
"He is a Demon!" James Kuran slammed his hand down against a nearby desk. He watched Keiran stir in his sleep, keeping silent until he faded back into unconsciousness. "And I am your commanding officer."
"Only behind walls, you are my commanding officer." Gevanni noted, "Keiran is not a Demon, Nico is." James shot him a glare that could cut through steel. There was no forgiving this.
"Keiran has no soul! He died at the age of nine. That living corpse," he pointed to Keiran, "contains a Demon's soul. That absolutely makes him a Demon!"
"Keiran? Why no, he is perfectly physically healthy. I would not call him a corpse, though he is slightly underweight and not so much as mentally healthy. That probably a personal thing though—"
"Don't play games with me, Blacksmith Exorcist!" James yelled quickly. "We are behind walls, so tell me everything you know!"
"I'm afraid I cannot do that, for my Young Master would not want that."
James shot another glare at Gevanni before dismissing him. Slowly, with caution, he placed the bandages back on Keiran's wrist—with the symbol that claimed that he was property. And near his neck—where a symbol claimed that he was a Blood Weapon, and a warning that he had a Demon's soul. It was funny how two symbols can make him harbor so much hatred.
– † Keiran –
Kuran manor, 9:34pm
Keiran woke up. His heart was beating so strongly that he was sure that his chest would burst at any second. Instead, his heart calmed down when he focused on his blood, then his pulse. He was one of those damned Blood Weapons, right? Hell, he was obliged to use it as a sort of everyday advantage. Even something as small as that.
There was something strange about his appearance. There was no more white in his hair, but what was left was a swirled strand of hair that stuck up from the top of his head like an antenna.
Becoming aware of his surroundings, the first aid kit that rest on a wooded desk to his right told him that this place was James' little clinic. The room was brightly lit with a new invention—the eletric light bulb. The brightness was contrary to the dark sky which could be viewed through the window on his left. In the background, a clock's ticking could be heard. Overall, the room was impressively gigantic. He just didn't like how much light went in from the large windows.
There was something different in the atmosphere. He could sense them again. Finally. Maybe he couldn't summon a weapon, but at least he knew that he might die soon just by sensing if there are any Demons around. While cheering joyfully in his head, he sat up. There was a shuffling of feet behind him. Keiran turned around, finding his personal thief, his single knight on the chessboard: Evan Gevanni.
Gevanni had a small frown on his face. Something was of distaste. Natually, Keiran did not care about what was causing his rather unpleased mood. Still, he asked.
"Gevanni...what's with the face?" Keiran asked dully; yet he left a hint of vexation in his voice.
Gevanni chuckled softly. "What face?"
"Oh please." Keiran muttered.
A headache of plain discontent washed over Keiran, and he laid back down with a thump. Gevanni laid is hand on Keiran's shoulder, giving him an unfamiliar bolt of fright at the unexpected action.
"Young Master...what's with the trembling?" Gevanni questioned.
Keiran made a 'tch' sound, removing his stubbornate's hand from his shoulder. "What trembling?"
"Oh please." Gevanni taunted, almost repeating the last exchange of words, "Take a look at your hand. Are you all right?"
Keiran brought his hand to his face, finding that what Gevanni had claimed was true. "I feel fine. It's simply...cold in here." Keiran lied.
Gevanni made an awkward 'ahhh' sound in agreement. He took back his previous position behind him. The two stared at each other for a moment with the feeling of, for Keiran, pique, and for Gevanni, cold amusement.
Yes. They didn't like each other too much.
Clenching his teeth, he forced the trembling to go down.
Gevanni cleared his throat after a couple of seconds of silence. "Well," Gevanni half-sighed, "The rest of the Royal Family are glad to see that you will be able to attend the soiree tomorrow. Are you, Young Master?"
The last soiree was last year. All last year, he was fortunately hunting Demons around the clock. All those six months, he kept up with his studies, which was, in that situation, hard to keep up with.
When he became a Figment—someone who protects one area like a fort—it felt like sandbags were taken off of his shoulders, and heavier ones were slowly put on.
"Absolutely." Keiran answered blankly and reluctantly. Social gatherings were not his idea of a 'fun' day. If it wasn't for Nico, hunting down Targets (Demons) would be better.
"Mm. I see that you are not. Then it shall be postponed until...the sixth, perhaps?"
"No. Leave it as it is." Keiran ordered.
Gevanni cleared his throat yet again, "On the other hand, the...um...we, your servants...appreciateyourreturnaswell, Young Master."
"What?" Keiran raised an eyebrow.
"We appreciate...your return to the manor. We hadn't had a chance to say that...but, I guess it's as if you," he paused, "had been missed." Gevanni, clearly uncomfortable, shifted into another position. Keiran took a long moment to reply.
"Oh." Keiran said blandly when he realized that he hadn't been back in London for such a long time. "That is indeed a...delightful thing to know of." Gevanni made a sound in agreement. "About the soiree, Evan, what families are attending?"
"Some members of the Kurans, the Purefoys, and the Ellans. It'll be taking place at the Purefoy estate in Hastings at four in the afternoon until nine."
The clock's ticking came to focus as the absence of sound took over. Minutes later, the double doors opened, revealing none other than James Kuran. Keiran felt a surge of emotions: worry, maybe even fear, and stress. Things just kept hitting at him one by one ever since his return to London. It all started with that one boy. Keiran then felt anger at the flashback that went through his mind. He sat right up, alert.
– ∞ Evan Gevanni –
'Trouble' was the first word that came into mind when James, well, General Kuran waltzed through the door, disturbing the o-so pleasant silence.
Sticking a Shinigami Demon Hunter—especially a Blood Weapon—and an Exorcist in the same room would ultimately lead to trouble if one knew about the other. Gevanni found it rather funny. Still, he was none the less concerned for the Young Master. He'd rather not laugh at his safety.
As expected, General Kuran looked at Keiran coldly. Much colder than my Young Master was used to. General Kuran naturally did not like the Young Master. With the General finding out his little 'secret,' it only made Keiran's future with the company worse. Much worse. When he walked by him, Evan half expected the General to pull out his sword and kill Keiran on the spot.
All in all, Evan Gevanni was siding with the Young Master. After all, Keiran did not decide his fate, since his parents had made that choice so long ago.
"I see that you're well." General Kuran said while he managed to keep his composure. "Are you well enough to leave?" he inquired nicely.
Gevanni answered for the Young Master when he became dumbfounded by a reason that even Gevanni don't know. Keiran usually wasn't like this. "Yes, he is. Isn't that right, Master?"
"Ye...yes, of course."
Gevanni nodded once. "We'll be taking our leave now. I hope we haven't caused—"
"Be sure that this will not happen again, Keiran, Gevanni." The General interrupted.
Gevanni nodded again, almost mockingly this time. The General spoke again as they turned around to leave. "Ahh, Keiran. May I have a word with you, in private?"
Gevanni stood there, mouth a gape, with fear and worry in his eyes as his Master nodded silently.
The General glanced at Gevanni with a half-glare as if sensing that fear, as if sensing that he did not trust James. Whatever the General wanted to talk about, with Keiran—in private, it wasn't going to be a friendly uncle-to-nephew talk.
– Ӂ End –
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